


Widowmaker

by rauqthetommo



Series: Crossfire [20]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergence - No Pennywise, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, Death/Murder, Explicit Gore, For this canon anyway, Gore, Graphic descriptions of violence, Gun Violence, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Heavy gore, Hitman AU, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mental Anguish, Minor Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier, Minor Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Murder, OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Patricia Blum Uris is a Good Friend, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Sad Ending, Sensitive Richie Tozier, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Violence, gun use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rauqthetommo/pseuds/rauqthetommo
Summary: Following the events of Incendiary Grenade:Richie and Eddie prepare for what could be their last job together.An excerpt from this work:As far as plans go, theirs wasn’t the worst one ever. Sure, faking his own death (and Eddie’s) would have been easier and faster, but Eddie was clearly having an internal struggle with his brain over the options Richie had given him. He didn’t want to leave LA, for some fucking reason, but he also knew that he couldn’t kill Richie, which didn’t leave them with a whole lot of other options.Bill had texted Richie the details of the job, and while Eddie pondered over Richie’s marriage proposal, Richie gathered up equipment for their job. The burglary seemed pretty straight forward; break in, waltz into the vault (which would be left open, according to Bill’s notes), take the cash, and get out. Easy peasy.There was no one to kill and no one to look out for, as the building would be empty when the work day ended at 5, so there wasn’t really any room for them to fuck up. They do the job, they get the money, they get whatever protection Adam Yeshien can offer them.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Crossfire [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658356
Comments: 32
Kudos: 47





	Widowmaker

As far as plans go, theirs wasn’t the worst one ever. Sure, faking his own death (and Eddie’s) would have been easier and faster, but Eddie was clearly having an internal struggle with his brain over the options Richie had given him. He didn’t want to leave LA, for some fucking reason, but he also knew that he couldn’t kill Richie, which didn’t leave them with a whole lot of other options.

Bill had texted Richie the details of the job, and while Eddie pondered over Richie’s marriage proposal, Richie gathered up equipment for their job. The burglary seemed pretty straight forward; break in, waltz into the vault (which would be left open, according to Bill’s notes), take the cash, and get out. Easy peasy.

There was no one to kill and no one to look out for, as the building would be empty when the work day ended at 5, so there wasn’t really any room for them to fuck up. They do the job, they get the money, they get whatever protection Adam Yeshien can offer them.

***

The Hyland building was a 10 minute car ride from Eddie’s place, so they took the mustang and rode in silence there. The sun was going down, hanging lazily in the sky as the clock on Richie’s dashboard ticked over to 7:00 PM.

Eddie drummed his fingers against his thigh the whole ride, breathing shakily. Richie understood why he was anxious, as both of their lives and their safety was riding on this job, but as long as Richie had Eddie with him, he wasn’t too worried.

The parking lot was empty, so Richie parked close to the building so they wouldn’t have to walk far, leaning over the center console to peck Eddie’s lips lightly before popping open his car door and stepping out onto the pavement.

The building was unlocked, so they slipped into the air-conditioned lobby, duffel bags slung over their shoulders, and crept through the building.

Richie had studied the map of the building before they’d left Eddie’s place, but there were also signs hanging on the walls that directed them deeper inside, down corridor after corridor, past offices and supply closets and conference rooms.

They stopped outside of a janitors closet so Richie could recheck the map. “I don’t think it’s very much further.” Richie said.

“That’s good.” Eddie replied.

He’d seemingly relaxed since the car ride, no longer bouncing on his feet or breathing like he needed a shot of his aspirator. He was wearing the outfit he’d had on the night he’d met Richie, and Richie was dressed the same, head-to-toe in black, gloves and sneakers included. “I lo—“

“Please, not now, Richie.” Eddie said softly. “Really, Rich, we can talk more when this is over, but for right now I just want to get this job done, ok?”

“Of course,” Richie nodded. “It’ll be ok, Eddie.” He reached out and brushed his fingers over Eddie’s elbow.

Eddie twitched at the contact but he didn’t pull back. He looked Richie up and down quickly before nodding slowly. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

Eddie nodded. “Yes, I—“ He let out a quick puff of air. “I trust you.”

Richie smiled at him softly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me like that.” Eddie frowned.

“Like what?” Richie cocked his head.

“Like I just sucked you off after junior prom.” Eddie lightly slapped Richie’s stomach. “Let’s keep moving.”

Richie watched as Eddie walked away from him, his stomach warm from where Eddie had touched him. He smiled, watching Eddie check around the corner before stepping out into the hall, gun in hand. Richie opened his mouth to speak, slamming it shut again when a gunshot rang out and Eddie jerked to the side, crumbling to his knees. “Eddie!” Richie yelled, quickly closing the distance between the two of them.

Blood poured from Eddie’s side and onto the white tile floor as he writhed on the ground, groaning loudly. Richie whipped his head around and fired down the hallway without looking, blasting the shooter at the other end of the hall.

The person who had fired, a man dressed all in black, hit the ground and dropped his gun. It skittered across the floor, bumping to a stop against the wall.

“Fuck, Richie.” Eddie moaned, coughing roughly.

“I’ve got you, Eds, hang on.” Richie assured him. He quickly walked over to the shooter, checking his pulse. He was dead, Richie had hit him 3 times, twice in the chest and once in the neck. Sticking out from his pocket was a wallet sized photo of Eddie. On the back was written his name and where to find him. Whoever this was had been hired to kill Eddie. The signature on the bottom of the photo read Damien Hayes. Damien had hired someone to kill Eddie for refusing to kill Richie. Richie’s stomach turned as he ran back over to Eddie, sitting him up against the wall.

“Fuck, Richie, it hurts.” Eddie coughed again, blood running down his chin.

“I know, sweetie.” Richie mumbled, leaning Eddie forward and patting over his back and side.

“Fuck!” Eddie groaned when Richie’s hand brushed the bullet hole.

“I don’t see an exit wound.” Richie shook his head and sat Eddie back again, resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Lucky me.” Eddie said softly, dark eyes flashing up to meet Richie’s.

“I’ll get you out of here, come on.” Richie threw Eddie’s arm over his shoulder and pulled him up, heart clenching at the strained groan Eddie let out.

Richie carried most of Eddie’s weight as they traced their steps back through the twisting corridors of the medical building. Eddie kept tripping, leaning forward and spitting blood out onto the floor as they went. He shook his head. “I need a rest, Rich.”

“Ok, alright.” Richie sat Eddie down against the wall, crouching in front of him and pushing his sweaty hair away from his face. “I love you.” Richie told him.

Eddie’s eyes looked glassy. “Where are we going?” He asked, looking around.

“Stanley’s, but we need to get back out to the car first.”

Eddie frowned. “What are you talking about? We need to get the fucking money, Richie.”

Richie blanched. “Eddie, I need to get you to help.” He took Eddie’s hands in his.

“We can’t leave the money behind, Richie!” Eddie yelled, blood running from between his lips.

“Eddie—“

“If you make me leave the money behind, I swear to god, I will never forgive you, for as long as I live I will never forgive you.” Eddie shook his head as he spoke, voice thick.

“Eddie, we need to move.” Richie pulled Eddie to his feet, trying to guide him towards the exit.

“Fine, I’ll get it myself.” Eddie snapped, shoving Richie away from him. He stumbled as he tried to turn and walk away, falling to his knees and throwing up blood onto the floor.

Richie couldn’t help but cry, pulling Eddie back up and throwing his arm over Eddie’s shoulder again. “We have to be fast, Eds.” Richie mumbled, quickly guiding Eddie further into the building. The safe was open, just like Bill had promised it would be, so Richie propped Eddie up against the safe wall and threw handfuls of money in his duffel bag as fast as he could. Eddie didn’t protest this time when Richie grabbed him again, throwing the bag of money over one shoulder and pulling Eddie towards the door.

***

Eddie’s entire body screamed in pain as he limped forward, Richie’s arm wrapped around his middle. He tried to be mad, but it was difficult when he’d lost so much blood. He just couldn’t believe that Richie had tried to bail on their job. A bullet wound was nothing, Stanley could fix him up no problem, and Richie had pushed so fucking hard for Eddie to do this stupid robbery bullshit with him, practically guilting him with his fucking marriage proposal, it didn’t make any sense to Eddie why he’d just jump ship at the first sign of trouble.

His eyelids felt so heavy he could barely keep them open, the harsh fluorescent bulbs drilling into his eyes.

Eddie had never been shot before, he’d never even come close, but it was 100x worse than he could've imagined.

Once they were outside, the hot air burned his skin, heating him up all over. He felt like there was a breeze running through his ribcage as they ran across the parking lot towards the mustang.

Richie unlocked the doors with his fob the second it was in view. The car chirped and the headlights blinked as Richie leaned Eddie against the passenger side door, throwing the bag of money into the backseat. “Get in, Eds.” Richie said, helping to lower Eddie into the seat. “I’ve gotta buckle you in.”

Eddie nodded, panting as Richie leaned over him to clip in his seatbelt. The pressure on his side caused him to groan loudly again, throwing up more blood down the front of his shirt. “Fuck, Richie.” He moaned quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Richie pressed their lips together despite the mess. He kissed Eddie’s lips once more before kissing his cheek softly. “You’ll be ok.” Richie mumbled into his skin, before slamming the door and sprinting around to the driver’s side.

Richie was behind the wheel and on the street in seconds, weaving through traffic as Eddie leaned his head against his seat, closing his eyes. His side felt like it was on fire, warm and wet and stinging with every jerk and bump of the car. His mouth filled up with blood again, so he opened his lips and let it drip down his chin. “Richie?”

“What is it, Eds?” Richie sounded panicked, eyes locked on the road.

“I’m not gonna make it,” Eddie shook his head, more blood running down his chest. His mouth tasted so heavily of pennies that it made his eyes water.

“Just two more minutes, Eds, we’re almost to Stanley’s.” Richie patted Eddie’s shoulder briefly before laying on the horn.

“Richie,” Eddie tried to open his eyes, but everything seemed to be soaked in a heavy mist.

“Yeah?”

Eddie laughed, his side aching, blood pouring from his lips. “It’s funny,” He chuckled again, spraying a mouthful of blood on the dashboard. “You know, I. . .” He trailed off, eyes glassy, and slumped forwards against his seatbelt.

***

“What’s funny, Eds?” Richie prompted, jerking the car to the right to pass a minivan. “Eddie?” He tried again, reaching over to shake Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie, what’s funny?” Richie was desperate now, shaking Eddie’s shoulder hard as he pulled into the Stanley’s driveway. “Eds, please.” Richie choked out, tears spilling over his eyes and collecting at the bottom of his glasses.

Richie shifted the car into park but left it running, throwing open his door and sprinting to the other side of the car. He yanked Eddie out and carried him, over his shoulder, up to the front door, pounding on the hardwood until Stanley answered. “Richie, Jesus—“

“Eddie needs help.” Richie sobbed, Eddie’s blood sticky all over his hands and his body.

“Give him here, Richie.” Stan took Eddie from Richie’s grip, carrying him into the dining room and laying him down on the table.

Eddie’s eyes were open, staring blankly up at the ceiling as Richie stood to the side, watching Stan and Patty work, poring over Eddie’s body, cleaning his blood away from the bullet wound. “Please,” Richie said softly, stifling a heavy sob with his blood soaked hand.

Richie saw Stanley and Patty make eye contact, Stan shook his head. Patty nodded, stripping off her gloves and leaning forward to kiss Eddie on the cheek. “Rich—“ Stan turned to face him.

“No,” Richie shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, Richie.” Stan reached his gloved hands toward Richie, trying to hug him.

“No.” Richie repeated, pushing past Stan to kneel next to Eddie. “Eds, you gotta wake up, honey, please.” He knelt next to Eddie’s body, resting his hands on Eddie’s arm. “Eddie, honey, please.”

“Richie—“ Patty tried, choked.

“Please, Eddie, I need you.” Richie stood up and leaned over Eddie’s body, pulling him up by his limp shoulders to wrap him up in a hug. Eddie’s head hung backwards, his curls tangling on Richie’s fingers as Richie held him tightly. “Eddie, please.”

“Richie, honey, he’s dead.” Stanley placed his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “He’s dead, sweetheart.”

“No, no, he just needs help, Stanley.” Richie sobbed, clinging to Eddie. “Stan, Patty, we need to help him, please.”

“Richie,” Patty stepped forward and pulled at Richie’s other shoulder, trying to help Stan pry Richie and Eddie apart.

“No, we can still help him!” Richie fought hard against them, wanting desperately for Eddie to speak, to move, to breathe, anything. But he didn’t. He remained limp and lifeless in Richie’s arms as Stan pulled him back. “We can still help him, Stanley, please.” Richie couldn’t take his eyes off of Eddie as Stan wrapped him up in a tight hug. He could hear Patty talking but he wasn’t registering what she was saying. “We can still help him.” Richie cried against Stan’s shoulder, bloody hands fisted in his shirt.

“Shh,” Stanley pressed a kiss into Richie’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Rich.” He was crying, Richie could feel his tears drip down into his hair and settle onto his sweaty scalp.

“Bill is on his way.” Patty said softly, wrapping her arms around both Stan and Richie, cellphone still in her hand.

“We can still help him,” Richie said miserably, eyes locking on Eddie’s lifeless corpse on the dining room table. “We can still help him.”

***

Stan managed to pull Richie out of the dining room and into the downstairs bathroom, stripping off his bloody clothes and settling him into a hot bath. Stan washed Richie’s body clean of Eddie’s blood for him, scrubbing him over gently with a wash cloth.

Richie sat silently in the tub, knees pulled up to his chest, staring blankly through the bloody lenses of his glasses. “Lift your arms up, Rich.” Stanley said softly, wringing out the cloth in the tub.

Richie did as he was told, pulling his heavy arms out of the water so Stan could wipe them down. Stan cleaned the cloth out again before taking Richie’s chin in his hand and turning his face so they were looking at each other. He wiped over Richie’s face with the washcloth, stopping when he was done and draping it over the edge of the tub. Stanley pulled Richie into another tight hug despite the fact that he was still fully clothed and Richie was dripping wet. “I’m so so sorry, Richie.” Stanley mumbled softly, lips pressed to Richie’s temple.

Richie couldn’t help the sharp sob that rumbled up from his chest, sniffling against Stan’s shoulder. “I loved him.” He whispered.

“I know you did, sweetheart.” Stanley ran his hands up and down Richie’s back, pulling back to look at him. He smiled sadly. “I know you did.” He tucked some of Richie’s hair behind his ear and plucked his glasses off of his face, setting them on the edge of the sink basin.

Richie reached up and cupped Stan’s face in his hands, pulling him in for a soft, tearful kiss, their lips resting softly together. Richie wasn’t really sure why he kissed Stan in the moment, it just felt right. He loved Stan and he wanted him to know that. Stan didn’t protest, he just kissed Richie back softly, one hand looped up under Richie’s armpit, gripping his upper arm, the other hand laying on the edge of the tub. “I loved him.” Richie repeated against Stanley’s mouth.

Stan nodded. “I know, Richie.” He pulled back when they heard the front door open, listening to Bill’s frantic stuttering as Patty led him into the house.

Bill screamed out, presumably when he saw Eddie’s body, a heartbreaking sound that made Richie’s head throb with pain. Bill was in the bathroom a few moments later, kneeling next to the tub and sobbing into Richie’s shoulder. “Wuh-wuh-wh-at heh-hap-hap-happened, Ri-richie?” Bill took a shaky breath, so worked up this he could barely make it through his sentence.

“It was a fucking trap, Bill.” Richie spit, squinting to see Bill’s face without his glasses. “Damien led us there to kill us. He had a hit out on Eddie.” Bill was frowning, tears streaming down his cheeks. “The guy that shot him had a picture of Eddie with him.”

“Duh-duh-day-damien didn’t huh-hi-hire us, though.” Bill shook his head.

“Adam Yeshien.” Richie said miserably. “It’s a fucking anagram, Bill.”

Bill’s lower lip quivered as he finally understood. Damien had planned the whole thing to get back at Richie for fucking up the Marian kill, and the Allen job, and for lying to him. He’d hired Bev and Eddie to kill Richie, but when Eddie couldn’t do it, he’d hired someone else to kill them both.

“I-I-I-I—“ Bill shook his head, slamming his fist on the edge of the tub when he couldn’t continue. “Fuck!”

Stan rubbed circles on Bill’s back as he cried. “Calm down, Bill.” Stan pulled Bill to his feet. “Let’s get you some water, pal.” Stan led him out of the bathroom, leaving Richie alone in the tub.

From his place in bathtub, Richie could see the corner of the dining room table. Patty had laid a blanket over Eddie’s body to cover him up, but his arm hung down over the edge of the table, limp fingers dripping blood onto the hardwood floor. Richie’s heart felt like it was going to explode, clenching and twisting in his chest. He choked out another sob, standing in the tub and grabbing his glasses off of the sink, shoving them back onto his face.

Stan had laid out some of his clothes for Richie, folded neatly on top of the closed toilet lid. The pants were a little too short and the shirt was a little too tight in the chest, but Richie pulled them on anyway. When Richie stepped out of the bathroom, Bill was sitting on one of the couches with a glass of water in his hand, head bowed and mumbling over and over again; “he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts”, almost every word broken up by his stutter. Patty knelt in front of him, rubbing her hand over his knee and trying to calm him down.

Stanley was picking up Eddie’s body from the table, having tossed the blanket onto the floor. He looked so fucking tiny in Stan’s arms, legs and arms dangling lifelessly, head slumped against Stanley’s chest. “I want to hold him, Stan, please.” Richie stretched his arms out to Stanley. “Please,” He repeated when Stan didn’t move, just frowning at him. “Please,” He said again.

Stanley stepped forward and gently passed Eddie into Richie’s arms, pushing Eddie’s hair back from his face as Richie cradled him. Richie choked out a sob, holding Eddie tightly as he walked over to the armchair. He sat down and held Eddie against his chest, pressing his face down into Eddie’s sweaty, sticky hair.

“Oh, Rich.” Patty said softly from her place on the floor.

Richie’s chest heaved as he cried, holding Eddie’s cold body against his, trying to transfer some of his warmth, some of his life, back into Eddie. He wanted so badly for him to wake up. To sit up and kiss Richie, smile at him and call him a fucking dumbass. Loop his arms around Richie’s neck and tell him he loved him. But it wouldn’t happen. Richie would never get to hear Eddie’s voice or his laugh, he’d never get to see him smile again.

Richie took a shuddery breath and looked up. “Take him, Stanley.” Stan knelt down and scooped Eddie out of Richie’s arms, stepping back. “Be careful with him.”

Stan nodded. “I will, Rich, I promise.”

Before Stan turned to walk away, Richie stood and kissed Eddie’s forehead, his skin cold against Richie’s lips. “I love you, Eds.” He said softly, tears dripping down onto Eddie’s cheeks. “I fucking love you so goddamn much, Eddie, you really had no idea.”

***

Richie never wanted to go anywhere near his car again. It was covered in Eddie’s blood and full of painful memories of the two of them together, so he let Bill drive him back to his place.

Bill was mostly quiet on the ride, still too worked up to be able to speak coherently, but he did keep his hand on Richie’s thigh the entire time, squeezing occasionally as he choked back a sob.

Richie had overheard Stan and Patty talking about what they were going to do with Eddie, and it broke his heart to know that Eddie would be cremated, all alone, crumbing to dust. Stan had said that he’d give the ashes to Bill to hold on to until Richie was ready to take them, but Richie wasn’t sure if he ever would be. He wasn’t sure he could bear the thought of having Eddie with him but not really. It was all too much.

When Bill dropped Richie off at home, he hugged him tightly in lieu of speaking. Bill was shaking in Richie’s arms, sniffling softly through his tears. When he pulled back, he kissed Richie gently on the lips, bringing his hands up to wipe his tears away. “He loved you, Richie.” Bill said, nodding. “He really did.”

Richie nodded too, but he wished that Bill hadn’t said that. It hurt him too much to think about.

His apartment was too dark and too quiet, too alone. Eddie’s belongings littered the place, a pair of his shoes lying on the mat by the door, Eddie’s favorite mug in the drying rack, Eddie’s sleeping shirt tossed on the floor of his bedroom.

Richie took a shower and washed himself with Eddie’s soap, holding Eddie’s washcloth to his face while he cried. He brushed his teeth with Eddie’s toothbrush and took a few puffs off of Eddie’s backup inhaler, the one he kept at Richie’s place for when he needed it.

That night, when he drifted off to sleep, he dreamt of Eddie. Eddie laying on his chest on the couch while they watched tv together, snoring softly against Richie’s t-shirt, somewhere far away from LA. They were alone in a house, their house, with wedding rings on both of their fingers.

It was a nice thought to have, that night, as he allowed himself to live in a reality where Eddie never died. A reality in which he would never wake up alone.


End file.
